What were you expecting?

Who’s going to hire me a personal chef?

It shouldn’t be surprising to anyone that I’m not a huge fan of cooking. Today’s experiment with beef stroganoff, while ultimately successful, didn’t change that. We started it around 9am, and the smell drifting through the house started out overwhelmingly of garlic and onion. Around midmorning, the smell had shifted to thyme, and only thyme, and I discovered after the too-much-thyme incident with the chicken and dumplings last week that I’m not a huge fan of thyme. By midafternoon, the house smelled like hot dogs. I have NO idea why. Thankfully, by dinnertime, the smell had drifted back towards something more like stroganoff.

Sure, cooking is science and that was all just chemistry and blah blah blah cooking. Too bad I like to eat.

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Take heart in the knowledge that every iteration of your stroganoff smell still beats the Hamburger Helper version of that dish. Happy to say I’ve never ingested it–just had the displeasure of the olfactory nightmare.